


Blue Skies

by Ferasha



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Orlesian Warden Needs More Love, Poor Life Choices, Prompt Fic, too much wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferasha/pseuds/Ferasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy to keep up with Oghren's drinking, but sometimes life does give you reasons to hit the bottle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2014. Un-beta'd, and English is not my native language, so I profoundly apologize for any possible mistakes.
> 
> Dedicated to my Orlesian Warden Commander, a character I created on a whim just because my Cousland was dead and my Surana was halfway through Origins when Awakening hit the shelves. Given that I was impatient to play immediately, I started the game with the new origin option, an Orlesian who came to Vigil's Keep as the "replacement" for the Hero of Ferelden. Turned out this was the most interesting way to experience the game. See, the entire plot of Awakening - everyone's mistrust, attempts at your life, starting over from scratch with Oghren - makes so much more sense when you're an Orlesian Warden Commander in Ferelden, a foreigner in a position of power in country that despises such foreigners. Not to mention there's room for wonderful head canoning and character development.
> 
> So, here's to Orlesian Warden Commanders. They deserve so much more love. 
> 
> P.S. Bonus points if you read Marcel's lines with a thick French accent.

**Blue Skies**

~ An intermezzo ~

 

 

“You know,” Oghren drunkenly slurred and pointed his finger at the Warden Commander, “it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

The Warden Commander took another gulp from his own cup. These days, he had impression he was drinking as much as the dwarf – he only knew how to hide it better.

“What wasn’t supposed to be ‘like this’, Oghren?”

“Everything!” The dwarf spread his arms as far as he could, encompassing the entire yard in which they were sitting. “Marriage and having a kid. The Wardens. Vigil’s Keep. The people here. _Especially_ the people here. You. “

Oghren paused for a moment, scratching his mustache, looking for the last item on his list of All Things Wrong.

“Fucking surface and its blue skies.”

The Warden Commander was not a man who easily fell for provocation. He took pride in his skill not to ask too many questions, preferring to read between the lines and interpret body language when he wanted to know how people around him truly felt. Tonight, however, it seemed that he did have one cup of wine too many – or his prolonged stay in Ferelden was making him more irritable than he wanted to admit.

“So tell me, why are you still here then, _cher monsieur le nain_?” he asked, his voice harsher than usual.

Much to his surprise, Oghren appeared genuinely taken aback by the question.

“It’s complicated, Marcy.”

‘Marcy’ was the nickname Oghren had given him on the day they met, claiming that ‘Marcel’ sounded too “haughty and puffed up and totally Orlesian.” The Warden Commander disliked it, but he knew there were advantages to nurturing a level of camaraderie with his subordinates, which included nicknames.

“You can’t understand it, Marcy, you just can’t,” the dwarf continued. “You weren’t here when it happened. But the Blight, well, it gave me a purpose. You know, like when you feel that your own life, with all its petty problems, does not matter anymore, because you’re part of something greater. You’re working for a Cause. And _he_ , by the ancestors, he was so good at inspiring people you wouldn’t believe it. I was a total wreck when he picked me up down there in Orzammar, but he believed in me, and had patience for me, and found a role for me so that I could help in every way I could. He made me feel worthy again. You should have seen it, all those different people working together, everyone listening to him, it was amazing. It was an honor to be a part of it.”

Oghren sighed, and the Warden Commander used the pause to pour himself more wine.

“But then the Blight ended and we won and he died and I ended up in a happy marriage with a kid on its way.” The dwarf’s tone sounded as if the latter was the greatest misfortune that ever happened to him. “Now don’t get me wrong, Marcy, Felsi’s a good girl and the kid is as cute as they come, but that life, that calm family life, that’s not for me. It made me too tired just by how calm it was. So you cannot blame me that I wanted to have that feeling again, you know. A purpose, a Cause. Something that would make me feel alive. And that’s why I came here.”

“But the Blight was over,” the Warden Commander helpfully added.

“Indeed it was. And all that I found were politics and intrigues and bloody nobles who’re worst than those in Orzammar, and economy and trade and all that claptrap on ‘restoring the arling’, and no one to keep me company but that faggot from the Circle, and a mad elven lady, and a fucking Howe, and a walking corpse – for crying out loud, Marcy, did you really have to bring _that_ here? And you wonder why nobody seems to like you…”

The Warden Commander shot the dwarf a sharp glance, but felt too mellow to properly respond.

“It’s not that you’re Orlesian, Marcy. Well, it is, but it’s not _only_ that. It’s that you’re not him.”

“That is true,” the Warden Commander agreed. “I am not him.”

“But you don’t have anywhere else to be but here, I know. It’s the same for me. So fuck it, Marcy, we’re stuck here together, you and I, to the bitter end. Tough luck.” The dwarf burped and raised his cup. “To the blue skies.”

“ _Aux cieux bleus_ ,” the Warden Commander echoed, and decided to stop worrying about drinking too much.


End file.
